Of Confidence
by your.kat
Summary: Totally AU. Pezberry. Nurse!Rachel, Patient!Santana. Every single chapter is exactly 750 words.
1. Home

It was a small building specifically designed for outpatient care. It was softly decorated – the colors were rich but not nauseating, the lights were dim and comforting, and there was always soft music of the classical variety playing in the background.

After parking her car in the employee lot behind the building, Rachel hurriedly made her way into the warmth. She visibly shivered and emitted a high pitched, "Brrr!" from her lips while she unwrapped her scarf from around her neck, all the while walking towards the room designated specifically for employees' belongings and whatnot.

"Morning, Rachel," an older, grey-haired woman called out as she entered the lounge.

"Good morning, Sue, how's it going today?"

"Oh, same as usual, you know?"

Rachel just flashed her a quick smile in response before depositing her things in their usual place and stepping in front of the task board, hands planted firmly on her hips, determination in her posture.

She couldn't help but release the air from her lungs in a sigh laced with worry and frustration.

For the past six weeks, the handful of new nurses on the staff had been undergoing rotations intended to find their strengths and their weaknesses and to properly place them in a semi-permanent position within the facility.

Rachel was officially in charge of the chemotherapy ward. As of today.

"What's wrong, dear?" Sue called from her seat across the room, clutching her hot mug of coffee in both hands while reading a story from the newspaper that was splayed out on the table in front of her.

Without removing her hands from her hips, Rachel pivoted on the spot and simply said, "Chemotherapy," before her shoulders slumped resignedly and her chin fell forward onto her chest.

When Sue heard the tone in Rachel's voice, she immediately looked up from her paper. Noticing Rachel's dejected posture, she hastily sat her coffee down and moved to stand in front of the younger nurse. "Now Rachel, why the doom and gloom attitude?" She had placed her hands on each of Rachel's upper arms, almost as if squeezing her together would uplift her spirits.

"Sue… It's chemotherapy!" She sighed exasperatedly again. "You know how small that ward is. You know that I'll see the same patients day in and day out. I'll see them strong and healthy and optimistic. And then what? Then I'll see them whither and lose hope. I know what that means, Sue. It means that I'll have to be the one to give them hope. I don't know if I can do that. I'm not sure that I can handle it if they just stop walking through those doors one day…" She trailed off abruptly. She really hadn't meant to say so much. She wasn't much of a talker on an average day. But she had done her rounds in the chemo ward, and it had drained her of her energy for a long time afterwards. Every day in there? She wasn't sure she could pull it off.

"Oh Rachel, you see… I know that you can handle it. And I know that you _will_ handle it. I, for one, can hear the conviction and the compassion in your voice when you speak. And you're absolutely right… They're going to walk through those doors on their first day, and they're going to be thinking a million and one things. And in that moment – in that hour or so of treatment – you may very well be the only person they have to turn to." She sighed and gave Rachel's shoulders a gentle squeeze. "You can do it, Rachel. One day at a time. You've been taught how to do everything else. Being strong is a lesson that you kind of have to pick up on your own."

She smiled kindly at Rachel, and Rachel momentarily lost it, throwing her arms around Sue's small frame and hugging her tightly.

When she pulled back she said, "You're great, Sue. I really don't know what I would do without you."

Sue chuckled lightly and said, "I'm sure you could think of a few things. Taking over my section would probably be your top priority!" She suddenly stopped laughing and mockingly gave Rachel a stern look. "But don't you get any ideas, young lady. I may be twice your age, but I have a few tricks of my own up my sleeves."

Rachel tried and failed at holding back the giggle that left her chest. "I wouldn't dream of it, Sue."


	2. Wake Up

Rachel would be lying to herself if she said that Sue's words hadn't instilled some semblance of confidence in her. They had. She felt ready to take on the world, let alone a job that she had been thoroughly trained and prepared to do. She could do this.

She could do this…

The entrance to the chemotherapy ward loomed in front of her, suddenly startlingly ominous and oppressing.

No.

She couldn't let her thoughts get the best of her. She had a job to do.

She entered the section of the hospital designated for those patients whose doctors had prescribed chemotherapy to treat their varying stages and types of cancer. She saw that there was already a patient waiting for her, the first appointment of the day. She smiled, and it was genuine.

"Good morning," she lightly called out to her patient.

The older gentleman lifted his head from the sports magazine he had been reading and flashed her a dazzlingly white smile. "Why, good morning to you, young lady!"

The glee in his voice was infectious, and Rachel found herself chuckling along with him as if they were old friends who had just shared an inside joke before ushering him into the appropriate room.

**OoOoOoO**

After his treatment, Rachel helped William put on his coat. He reached out and shook her hand before telling her, "You're a beautiful girl, Rachel. You're going to make someone very happy someday."

It was a line Rachel had heard before. Maybe it was cliché. But something about the manner in which he said it, the smile on his lips, or the way he didn't hesitate before squaring his shoulders and marching out into the world beyond the facility's doors made Rachel _believe it_, quite possibly like she had never believed anything before.

She sat herself down at the small nurse's desk to finish filling out William's chart while waiting on her next appointment.

9:00 am came and went, and Rachel hadn't noticed. But by the time it was 9:30, she realized that she had a problem. The small facility was really only able to handle administration of chemotherapy to one or two patients at a time. If her 9:00 appointment was any later, the chemo ward would be backed up all day long.

She was in the process of standing up from her desk to go and scout out for her missing patient when the door slid open to reveal a young woman in a black trench coat, the collar of which was popped and obscuring most of her features other than her long, black hair that was cascading down her back. The woman's eyes searched the side of the room opposite Rachel briefly before spotting the coat rack, shimmying out of her lengthy garment, and smoothing out the long sleeves of her v-neck before turning to Rachel.

A shy grin broke out on the woman's face as she hurried to stretch her hand out to Rachel. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry for being this late. I clearly didn't anticipate the traffic jam that I ran into on my way here." She took Rachel's hand in both of hers before conspiratorially and almost shyly leaning in and saying, "Also… I'm really nervous. I'm a virgin to all of this."

Rachel smiled equally as conspiratorially at her, leaning her head in slightly as well before whispering, "Would it make you feel better if I said that I was also a virgin to all of this?"

The spell of nervous anticipation was broken as the woman in front of her literally threw her head back and laughed before replying, "Oh gosh, I really do hope you're joking. I don't think both of us should be new to this."

Rachel smiled before reassuring her that no, she was not new to this process and that the woman really was in good hands. The woman's shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath and released it before putting on a brave face and telling Rachel that she was ready to get started. It was then Rachel realized their hands were still clasped and her gaze was only reluctantly being drawn away from the woman's startling beautiful eyes.

Rachel squeezed her patient's hand lightly and then grabbed the file off of the nurse's desk.

"Ok… Santana. Right this way."

Rachel knew the journey Santana was about to embark upon would inevitably be painful and trying. She hoped more than ever that William had been right.


	3. Disconnect

The room in which the chemotherapy was administered didn't differ much from the rest of the building's décor. It was soothing to the patients. That was all that really mattered.

"Here you go, Santana. Pick a chair, it'll be your home away from home for the next few weeks." Rachel smiled brightly at Santana, hoping that the joke was not in bad taste. Luckily, Santana returned what was hopefully a genuine smile, and Rachel released her held breath.

"I think I'll pick…" She gazed thoughtfully around the room before her gaze settled on "_that_ one."

"Ahh good choice," Rachel replied. Santana had chosen a very comfortable, old-fashioned, high back chair with lots and lots of cushion to it. Around the chair were various medical devices necessary for her treatment as well as a small table with an exorbitant variety of magazines.

Rachel allowed Santana to get seated in the chair. Santana immediately removed her shoes and curled her feet up underneath her and leaned over to search through the stack of magazines for something interesting – ideally, for something to curb her nerves.

While Santana was mentally preparing herself, Rachel had to prepare the equipment for Santana's personalized treatment. "I noticed your port should be easily accessible with the shirt you're wearing –" Rachel's eyes semi-bugged out of her head after she realized what she had said. "No, no… Not that I was checking out what you were wearing. Well, I mean, obviously I was checking you out. No! But no, not _checking you out_, just like, _**checking you out**_… Oh God, that was all wrong. Umm… Your shirt, it's low cut so –" She stopped and took a deep breath. She let it out slowly and then said, "I'm sorry. That was a severe case of the ramblings. Just… The ports are normally located just below the collarbone, so with a v-neck shirt such as the one you're wearing, it'll basically be perfect for this." She squeezed her eyes shut and took one last deep breath and exhaled before slowly opening one eyeball and peering at Santana.

Santana's face was literally tinged red from the effort she had exerted to hold in her laughter at Rachel's strange speech. As Rachel peered at her from under her eyelashes, Santana couldn't help but release the laughter that had built up inside of her.

Rachel blushed. As in, her face flushed with blood and butterflies flew all around her stomach and her head almost felt light. What was it about that laugh? Rachel couldn't find it within herself to describe it.

"Well Nurse Rachel, I was hoping to make this as easy as possible," she said, her voice half an octave lower than before. Rachel thought she had missed something, her head snapped up quickly to catch her patient's eye. Santana caught her quick reaction and _winked_ before bursting out into another fit of giggles.

"Oh gosh, I can already tell that you're a fiesty one! We're going to be getting into a lot of trouble, aren't we?" Rachel asked, genuinely curious.

Santana didn't reply. Instead, she just opened up her magazine - successfully obscuring her face from the flustered nurse.

"Ahh. I see. So that's how you're going to be about it."

Santana lowered her magazine slightly and _winked _at Rachel. _Again!_ Rachel allowed her jaw to drop open comically, sarcastically gasping slightly. Santana laughed again, pressing the magazine against her chest. When she laughed, she laughed with her entire body. Heat washed over Rachel's face... Again.

"So," Rachel cleared her throat, trying to relieve the tension that was building up in her chest and effectively making it difficult to breathe. Or sit still. Santana finally managed to get her laughter under control. "Everything is ready to start your treatment. It will run for exactly one hour. Once you've completed this first treatment, you will be coming back once a day for approximately 85 days. I'm thinking your doctor probably explained this to you," Rachel paused questioningly - Santana nodded. "Ok good. Well, I'm ready to begin. We can start whenever you feel prepared."

Santana's head tilted back. She inhaled deeply - released it slowly through her lips. Her eyes were closed, and Rachel found herself watching her every move.

Finally, as if a switch had flicked into the 'on' position within her, Santana's eyes opened. Her head came down, allowing herself to look Rachel directly in the eyes. And - with something akin to finality - she said, "Let's do this."


	4. Never Feel Alone

As soon as Santana walked in the door, Rachel's head snapped up. A bright smile covered her face as the other girl hung up her coat. But when the Latina turned fully towards Rachel's desk, one hand lightly on her hip while she leaned with the other upon one of the two chairs in front of the oak piece, Rachel knew immediately that something was wrong.

Santana's lips were parted slightly as she released a heavy breath. Her eyes had closed, and she slowly lowered her head down to her chest. It was as if she was attempting to meditate while standing. And Rachel was hesitant to interrupt – even though she was absolutely _dying_ to ask the other girl something, anything.

_Do you feel nauseous?_

_Have you had any nosebleeds?_

_Was there hair on your pillow yet?_

Instead, she waited.

And finally, Rachel was rewarded with the startlingly bright brown eyes of the other girl. Santana was staring back now, as if she was fiercely determined to conquer this foreign nemesis within her body or even just this day. Or maybe… Maybe she just needed to conquer this moment. This brief, fleeting moment of time.

The average human lives sixty-seven years. That's exactly two billion one hundred and fourteen million three hundred fifteen thousand seven hundred and eighty-four seconds.

And when you looked at it that way… Well, maybe one life wasn't exactly as significant as the human race would like to believe.

"Hi," Santana said – fully prepared to make it through the next thirty-six hundred seconds of chemotherapy treatment. She smiled lightly at the nurse in front of her – the nurse she had become relatively familiar with over the past nine days. The nurse who had been something of a bright beacon of light and hope amongst the shambles of Santana's current existence.

"Good morning, Santana," Rachel replied.

_Always so cheerful_, Santana thought. And the thought made her smile a little less light and a little more bright – a little more _real_ and curiously hopeful.

"You look very nice today, Nurse Rachel," Santana said. "Are those new scrubs, by chance?"

Rachel blushed. _Blush looks good on her cheeks_, Santana thought. _Real good_.

"No, _Santana_," Rachel replied. She said '_Santana_' with the sweetest, sincerest hint of embarrassment at having been complimented. And it resounded in Santana's eardrums like the most beautiful melody. "They're actually some old ones that I haven't worn in a while – and today is laundry day."

"Mmm," Santana hummed thoughtfully to herself. "The Great Mystery is now solved."

Rachel giggled and stuck her hand out. Santana took it, following Rachel back to the chemo room.

As Rachel got the appropriate medication situated, Santana leaned her head back, again allowing her eyes to flutter closed – thinking, contemplating… Worrying.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Rachel questioned.

Santana cracked a single eye open and focused it on the nurse in front of her. "Just a bad day," she said.

Rachel's head immediately snapped up. "Tell me your symptoms," she demanded politely, genuinely finding it necessary to know as soon as possible so she could help the other girl.

"No," Santana answered. "No, not _that _kind of bad day." Rachel looked relieved. Santana didn't feel relieved at all. "Just a bad day. Like, the kind of bad day that people without cancer have. Except – on top of my mom yelling at me, my philosophy professor kicking my ass completely and totally, and missing my little sister's soccer game – I have cancer as well." She sighed heavily and shook her head once, twice. "It is simply _not_ a great day to be Santana Pierce. Not at all."

Rachel reached her hand out and placed it over Santana's. "Sometimes life sucks," Rachel said. "They don't explicitly teach you that in nursing school, but most of us pick up on it relatively quickly. And if you don't pick up on it…" She paused, kneading her lower lip gently between her teeth. "Well, you normally don't make it far."

Santana tried to pull her eyes away from Rachel's lips. She really did. But sometimes life sucked – and sometimes, life presented you with a beautiful girl practically sitting in your lap and holding your hand and offering you advice… And, well, Santana was only human.

"I hear ya," she replied. "Has anyone ever told you that you're practically the sweetest nurse ever?" She couldn't stop the wink. It just happened, as it tended to do with Nurse Rachel.

Rachel blushed. _Again_. "Not today," she replied bashfully.


	5. Weathered

It was several days later when Rachel was awakened by her phone. It was very early, and she groggily answered, "H-Hello?"

"Rachel?"

Immediately recognizing the voice on the other end of the line, Rachel sat straight up in bed. She was suddenly wide awake.

"Yes, this is she. Santana?"

"Yeah," Santana said, a hint of quiet reserve in her voice. "I'm sorry to call you so early in the morning. I really would've called anyone else first –" Rachel bit her lip, slightly put off by Santana's statement "- but I really don't think anyone else would be able to help me, to understand…"

Rachel pulled her legs out from under the covers, lightly swinging them over the side of the bed to dangle above the floor. "Trust me, Santana, it's ok. Tell me what's wrong."

Rachel heard the other girl sigh deeply on the other side of the conversation. "I got up to go to the bathroom," she started. Another pause, hesitation. "When I came back," Rachel could practically hear her swallow over the line, nervously. "There was just… _Hair_."

Rachel hung her head in realization. She knew that this moment was going to be happening soon for the other girl. For women especially, it was a very trying and emotional time during their chemotherapy treatment. And now Santana's moment was here.

"I see," Rachel replied. "Well, listen. Your chemo isn't until this afternoon. And I'm off this morning, so give me your address. I'll come pick you up, and we'll head out to your local salon. How does that sound?"

A pause. "It sounds too easy when you say it like that."

Rachel blanched momentarily. "I can always make it sound much more difficult," she joked lightly. "Especially if that would make it easier to handle." She sincerely hoped with all of her heart that the Latina could hear the smile in her voice.

A short, light chuckle resounded through the phone, and Rachel sighed in relief. "Ok, Rachel. I'll text you my address."

**OoOoOoO**

When Rachel pulled up to the beautiful, three-story, chic Tudor apartment, she hesitated momentarily. The location was ideal for raising a family – there was virtually no crime in this area of the city, and the price to live here? Well, it was through the roof. If this was the right address, and Santana lived on one of the floors in this apartment building, she was very, very well off. Which confused Rachel – hadn't Santana mentioned something about a philosophy professor? Surely the girl was still in college…

A lot of things weren't making sense, but Rachel hopped out of her car and hurried up to the building anyway, deciding to take her luck. She buzzed in at the door and wrapped her coat tighter around herself. Several loose strands of her hair tickled her face in the wind.

It was only a short wait at the door in the cold. The door swung open and Rachel was graced with a beautiful sight – Santana was wearing tight designer jeans and a loose v-neck t-shirt made of flowy, light material.

"Good morning," Rachel said from the doorstep.

Santana didn't immediately reply, she just quickly ushered Rachel inside to escape the cold. Almost as soon as Rachel began to become engulfed by the warmth, she turned to Santana and caught the girl's gaze. Santana's eyes were moist, and Rachel was sure that tears were about to spill over.

Something about that realization – that Santana was hurting and _lost_ almost broke something within her. She wanted to make Santana better – she wanted to make her better outside of her capacity as a nurse. She just wanted to fix _whatever_ was broken in this girl's life.

Slowly, gently, she reached out and pulled Santana into a hug. Santana, being a couple inches taller than Rachel, mostly received a mouthful of hair. But she hugged Rachel back just as fiercely as Rachel was willing to give.

Rachel pulled back and gave the girl standing in front of her a gold-star smile, bright and beaming and confident.

"It's going to be ok," she said.

Santana nodded, smiled briefly, and told Rachel to make herself comfortable while she finished getting ready. Rachel acquiesced and was momentarily surprised when Santana climbed the stairs to the second floor.

_Maybe_, Rachel thought, _she actually owns the __**entire**__ apartment_. Her eyebrow raised ever-so-slightly.

She proceeded to wait for her – choosing to peruse the many photographs of Santana with a stunningly beautiful blond woman while she waited.


	6. A Space To Grow

Santana stood stock still in front of her bureau. She was staring at her reflection steadfastly – her gaze hadn't shifted in at least a full minute. Finally, she blinked and forced her hand forward, towards a pair of beautiful hoop earrings that she loved to wear – wearing them always made her feel attractive.

But as she began to insert the first hoop into her ear, she hesitated. She blinked again and licked her lips before removing the earring. She held it in the palm of her left hand and simply stared at it. Several tears fell from her downturned face into the palm of her hand. One tear clashed on the silver of the hoop before dripping down onto her skin.

What if, after her head is shaved, she would simply look foolish with hoop earrings?

The uncertainty was enough for her to close her hand tightly around the earring – for only a moment – before placing the pair back inside her jewelry box.

Again, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. _Breathe_, she told herself.

Her eyes flitted up and to the left – to where a photo booth filmstrip was wedged underneath the edge of the mirror. Santana shakily reached up and grabbed it, pulling it down so she could cradle it in her hands.

There were three pictures, all of which captured Santana with a beautiful, blond girl. In the topmost picture, they were sitting side-by-side – their cheeks were pressed firmly together with Santana's arms wrapped around the other girl's waist and the other girl's arms wrapped around Santana's neck. In the middle picture, the blond was making a goofy face at the camera, but Santana was turned towards the blond and giving her a look of sheer adoration. In the bottommost picture, the blond had finally turned towards Santana – their noses were brushing together, their foreheads were touching lightly…

After that final picture, they had shared a heart-stoppingly spectacular kiss.

Santana's mind flashed to the girl downstairs. The girl with the beautiful hair and the captivating eyes and the kind smile – the girl who had hugged her and, when she had hugged her, had effortlessly caused all of Santana's worries and fears to melt away into nothingness.

Turning her eyes back to the filmstrip in her hand, Santana let loose a shuddering breath before bringing the strip to her lips and kissing the blond – in each of the three photos – before pressing it firmly against her chest, over her heart. Then she pulled open the top drawer of her bureau and delicately – reverently – laid the photos inside.

**OoOoOoO**

When Santana descended the stairs, she caught Rachel holding a photograph in her hands, examining it carefully. She quietly walked up behind the nurse and said, "She's beautiful, no?"

Rachel, shocked, almost dropped the frame. She caught herself though, placing one hand to her chest to still her rapidly beating heart and using the other to firmly replace the picture on the mantle. Once she had calmed herself enough, she turned to face Santana, lightly grabbing the Latina's wrist between her thumb and middle finger. "You scared me," she gasped. "But yes, she is notably a very beautiful young woman." She paused. "Someone special to you?"

Santana nodded and slipped her wrist from between Rachel's fingers, opting instead to grab the other girl's hand within the confines of her own and began leading Rachel towards the door. "Yes," she reiterated her head nod. "Very special. She was the first person I ever truly loved."

"And your family? Did you love them?"

Santana shrugged almost imperceptibly. "Family is family. Brittany was my entire world."

Rachel – being unable to discern Santana's reason for using the past tense – was attempting to tread carefully around the subject. "And have you loved anyone like you loved Brittany since?"

Santana helped Rachel into her coat before pulling her own on as well. She contemplated how to answer Rachel. She pulled a scarf down from its hook and wrapped it intricately around her neck to ward off the chill once they were outside again. Finally, she opened her mouth to respond. "I haven't loved anyone else that way since, no. But because of Brittany, I know that I'm capable of it."

Rachel smiled brilliantly at Santana after these words. They were full of hope and certainty and potential. Santana couldn't help but allow the corners of her own lips to rise involuntarily.

"Let's go, short stuff," she quietly called over her shoulder as she left the building.


	7. Symmetry

"Tell me something I don't know about you."

Rachel thoughtfully – and playfully – stroked her chin with her thumb and forefinger. Santana giggled, and the sound caused Rachel to glance over at the young woman next to her with a bright smile on her face – a smile that, she was sure, was causing her eyes to sparkle brilliantly. Because Santana's laugh was contagious and so utterly _free_ that Rachel almost couldn't stand it.

"Well, _dahh-ling_," Rachel dramatically drawled. "There's oh so very _much_ that you don't know about me. Where should I begin?"

Santana pulled one of her legs up in the passenger seat of Rachel's car and placed it comfortably underneath her. "How about… We go back and forth. At least," she swallowed around the lump in her throat. "At least until we get to the salon. To maybe keep my mind off of it?"

Rachel hesitated for only a brief second – _Is it inappropriate? Where do I draw the line between Santana being my patient and Santana being my __**friend**__? – _before she reached over and lightly placed her hand on Santana's thigh.

"That sounds like a great idea," Rachel softly announced. Santana smiled. "Ok, let's see…" Again, Rachel entered Contemplative Mode. "My favorite flavor of ice cream in the _entire world_ is vanilla. And I know that people think that's _terribly_ boring, but that's how I've always felt! And it's not even that I haven't tried other flavors of ice cream. Because I have, trust me – if for no other reason than to stop people from making fun of me for liking vanilla. Alas, here I am today – a strong-willed lover of vanilla ice cream."

Santana giggled, pressing her hand against her lips in an attempt to stop the giggles from becoming full-blown laughter.

"Laugh all you want," Rachel said – her tone was genuine.

Finally, Santana calmed enough to speak. "Whew," she breathed. "Well, my favorite type of ice cream is plain old chocolate – so I guess you could say that I'm almost equally as boring."

Rachel squeezed Santana's thigh gently. "Not boring," she said, her voice soft and respectful. "Vanilla and chocolate go together amazingly well."

Santana turned her head then, if for no other reason than to better stare at Rachel's profile. A loose lock of hair had fallen from Rachel's pony and was brushing against the nurse's cheek. Santana had to bite her lip – _hard_ – to keep herself from reaching out and pushing the stray bit of hair back behind the other woman's ear, to keep herself from allowing her fingers to linger on the soft-looking skin of her cheek.

Taking Santana's silence for acquiescence, Rachel continued. "I love to sing."

Santana forced her eyes away from Rachel's lips. "I love to sing in the shower."

"I've considered moving out of my apartment – just so that I could find one that will let me have a dog," Rachel said, her lower lip stuck out in a pout.

Again, Santana had to force her eyes back out the car's window. "My best friend from the time I was about four years old until I was nine was my dog, Baxter. He was the best."

"What happened when you turned nine?" Rachel questioned.

Santana again turned her head – but this time, it was to look directly at Rachel. They were stopped at a light, and Rachel looked over as well, directly into Santana's eyes. Rachel was surprised to see them shining brightly with unshed tears. "Brittany moved to my hometown. She was in my homeroom class that year. The rest is history."

Rachel wanted so badly to ask about that history. Instead, she turned her eyes back to the road as the light turned green and continued with their little game. "For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to help people. I wanted to be a doctor or a nurse or _anything_, really – it never truly mattered, as long as I was getting rid of sickness. But through all of my training and desire to help people, one thing was always hardest to deal with..."

"What was that?"

Rachel looked at Santana from the corner of her eye. "The chemotherapy ward."

Santana looked down at Rachel's hand on her leg. Delicately, she placed one hand on top of Rachel's and her other hand underneath – so that she was holding Rachel's hand in both of her own. "Well," she said. "That makes two of us."

They shared a sad smile. Then Rachel put the car in park.


	8. This Is War

Santana had called ahead and made an appointment with her normal stylist, Tina. So when the girls walked in, they were greeted with warm smiles. Santana politely introduced Rachel and Tina to each other before excusing herself to go use the restroom. Tina had a decently-sized room just to the left of the entrance, and she showed Rachel in while they waited for Santana.

"It's a very delicate situation," Rachel said softly.

Tina stopped sweeping and turned to look at Rachel, leaning lightly on the broom. "Yeah," Tina said just as demurely. "I've never actually had to do this for any of my girls before."

Rachel caught sight of a tear escaping Tina's heavily made-up eyes. She stood up and placed a hand on Tina's wrist. "Sweetie, don't cry." Tina sniffled. "No, seriously. You absolutely cannot cry." Tina blinked twice before straightening up and lifting her chin. "We have to make this into a celebration, not some morbid milestone in her cancer treatment. A party. Ok?"

Tina smiled, and it was genuine. And when Santana came back into the room, both of the other women could tell that she had been crying. But she had definitely made a valiant attempt to cover it up.

Throughout the process, they played happy pop music and told jokes and gossiped – just like a regular appointment. And when Tina started shaving Santana's head, Rachel burst out into cheers. And when Lady GaGa's newest song came on the radio, Rachel picked up a hairbrush and began dancing around the small area and singing (rather loudly) into her makeshift microphone.

Rachel knew she looked foolish. But when Santana smiled – and not just a tiny smile or a smile where she grinned and barely showed her teeth, but a genuine smile filled with full-on body-shaking laughter – Rachel was pleased.

Tina finished and gently wiped down the woman's head and applied some moisturizer. Santana stood and hugged Tina in a friendly embrace before turning to walk out of the room. Rachel was standing next to her chair and smiling sweetly at Santana. And when Santana hesitated briefly at the door, one hand reaching up to touch where her locks of hair normally fell over her shoulder, Rachel quickly reached into her purse and pulled something out.

Rachel held it out for the other girl to take. Santana sent Rachel a questioning look. "What's this?"

"Just open it," Rachel said.

Santana did just that – revealing a beautiful, silk headscarf. "Rachel," she said. "I don't even know what to say." Rachel just shrugged before pulling the scarf out of Santana's fingers, folding it delicately and indicating for Santana to turn around. She did, and Rachel tied it around her head. "Thank you," Santana said. "Seriously. So much…"

"Don't even mention it," Rachel said.

**OoOoOoO**

Rachel pulled up outside Santana's apartment. She left her car running – it was still frigidly cold outside and the heater was a necessity.

Rachel turned in her seat to look at Santana. She thought the girl had fallen asleep – her head was pressed against the passenger side window and her eyes were lightly closed. Rachel tentatively reached out and pressed her palm against Santana's shoulder. The girl stirred slightly before looking fully at Rachel.

"Hello," Rachel whispered.

"Hi."

"Would you like me to walk you inside?"

"Would you like to stay for coffee?" Santana countered.

Rachel smiled. "I would like that."

**OoOoOoO**

In the kitchen, Rachel was promptly directed to sit on a barstool. She acquiesced while Santana flitted around making two steaming mugs.

"Ouch!" Santana exclaimed, having touched the side of the coffee maker where it was very hot on accident.

Rachel jumped up. "What happened? Let me see," she demanded calmly.

The irritation was nothing, really. Not even a noticeable mark was left. But Santana looked at her finger and then at the nurse standing in front of her and she could feel the scarf rubbing gently against her entirely bald head and she broke down.

Pressing both of her hands over her face, she cried. She wept. She would have fallen to the ground, but Rachel's arms embraced her around the waist and gently pushed her back against the counter.

"Santana, sweetie," she practically cooed the words. "Talk to me."

"What if I don't make it," Santana managed to get out between sobs. Rachel opened her mouth to reply. "And worse… What if _I_ make it? What if _I_ make it when _she_ couldn't?"

And then Rachel understood. As Santana cried, Rachel held her tightly.


	9. Northern Lights

"It took them a long time to figure out that she was sick," Santana said quietly. The girls were sitting on her couch. "She was _so_ healthy – always dancing, always moving. She didn't really walk anywhere… If she could skip, she would rather do that." Santana smiled at the memory. "Anyway… She started constantly feeling sick – fever, fatigue. And she was bruising really easily…"

Rachel sighed lightly and bit her lip while reaching her hand that wasn't holding her coffee mug out and placing it on top of Santana's. "Leukemia?" she asked.

Santana nodded. "Leukemia. Problem was," Santana took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose. "Her family had awful insurance. I mean, they might as well have not had it at all. But my family… Well, my father is one of the most prominent plastic surgeons in the entire northeast. And my mother is a high-ranking member of a – get this – insurance company. So our insurance is outstanding – and anything that wasn't covered? Well, we'd just pay out of pocket for it – no big loss."

"So, Brittany?"

"By then, we were already living here together. Going to college and all that good stuff. My dad bought this apartment for me. Well, for _us _– my parents knew Brit and I were together since high school. Anyway, Brittany didn't have a problem with me helping her pay for things – I had been doing it my entire life, it was my _job_ to take care of her. But her family started to resent me for it. So one day, I planned out this whole romantic event, and I proposed to her." Santana smiled brightly, even as tears filled her eyes. "We were married the very next week by a judge in the city, and my mom pulled some strings and Brittany was almost instantaneously covered by my insurance."

Rachel rubbed her hand up and down Santana's forearm – silently giving the other girl her support and urging her to continue.

"We fought, Rachel," Santana said. "We fought _so_ damn hard for her life. Every day, Brittany got a little weaker from the treatments – a little sicker, a little more tired. One day, she just started coughing. I called a nurse. There was blood on her sheets and she couldn't stop shaking."

Rachel placed her cup down on the coffee table next to Santana's. She scooted over and wrapped an arm comfortingly around Santana's shoulders. The girl was trembling beneath Rachel's fingertips.

"It wasn't even the cancer. Well," she thoughtfully paused. "It was the cancer's _fault_, but it was the infections that killed her. This was just the first one. But they got worse and worse. Nothing was working. Her body couldn't fight it off forever." Santana stoically continued, fighting hard against the memories to stay strong and tell the story that she knew must be told. "One night, I was lying in her hospital bed with her. I had her wrapped up in my arms. She was taller than me – since we were eleven or so, probably – but the weeks leading up to that night? She always felt so small, so tiny in my arms."

Santana stopped, staring off across the room. "You can tell me, Santana."

Turning to look Rachel in the eyes, Santana said, "She told me good-bye that night. She said that I was the greatest thing to ever happen to her. She said that she would be dancing in heaven while she waited on me – but that, as long as I was happy and healthy, she could wait until the end of time. She told me not to be sad because I was always the most beautiful when I smiled. And she said that I wasn't allowed to give up just because she was going away. She kissed me then, and it was the most bittersweet kiss I've ever experienced in my life. She told me to ask her anything – anything at all. She didn't want anything left unsaid between us before she fell asleep."

"What did you say?"

"I told her that it was because of her that I had become who I was – that I would forever be grateful to her for that, and that my heart would always be hers." Santana laughed sadly. "She got so mad at me when I said that."

"Why?" Rachel questioned.

"Because," Santana replied quietly. "She said that I had to save what was left of my heart for someone new to love." Santana gently laid her head on Rachel's shoulder.


	10. Where I Want To Be

It was thirty-seven days into Santana's chemotherapy treatment when Rachel first propositioned her for a date.

Santana had walked into the room, hung her coat on the coat rack, and plopped down in front of Rachel's desk. Rachel had smiled coyly before picking up Santana's chart from her stack and leading the other girl into the treatment room. There, propped up in Santana's usual chair, was a DVD.

Santana stopped momentarily, choosing to look at Rachel questioningly. Rachel skillfully allowed a deceptively nonchalant expression to cover her face. Santana's eyebrows lowered skeptically, but she preceded the rest of the way to her chair and picked up the case.

"The Breakfast Club?" she asked, a lilting quality to her voice.

Rachel was busying herself getting things ready for Santana and just replied with an "Mmhmm."

Santana tapped the movie a couple times against her open palm, and she tried to stop the ridiculous smile from spreading across her face (and she simultaneously failed superbly).

"I think you're trying to give me a hint or something," Santana said playfully.

Rachel mock-gasped. "What? I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about!"

"Three days ago, I tell you that I've never seen The Breakfast Club. Today, The Breakfast Club is in my chair. Coincidence? Highly doubtful."

"Maybe the John Hughes Fairy dropped it as she was passing through."

"Because that's more likely."

Rachel giggled. "Fine, you figured me out." She sighed dramatically. "Deception was never a specialty of mine."

"Oh really?" Santana mocked. "Because I find that _so_ hard to believe." Rachel giggled. Santana blushed.

Rachel approached Santana's chair as the taller girl sat, getting comfortable with her shoeless feet curled up underneath her. She pulled the customary throw from the back of the chair and laid it across her lap. The chemo always made her cold.

As the treatment started, Santana allowed her eyes to close. She leaned her head back heavily, feeling the drugs pulsing into her veins. The chill didn't take long to set in, so she tried to distract herself with her thoughts. This, she found, turned out to be a bad idea. Because all she could think about was the girl sitting a few feet away from her, fiddling around with some machine or another. Santana cracked one eye open and stared. She stared and she wondered about Rachel and she considered what the movie in her lap meant.

_Ask me_, she thought. _Just ask me. I'll say yes._

"So I was wondering," Rachel began, easily causing Santana's heart to race. _I have enhanced mental capabilities!_ she thought, assuming that her psychic pleas had swayed Rachel's words. "Would you like to watch the movie tomorrow night? With me?"

"Yes," Santana replied without hesitating for a single beat.

Rachel smiled. _That was easy_, she thought. "Tomorrow night then."

"Yeah," Santana said. "Tomorrow night."

**OoOoOoO**

The next morning, Santana could tell it was going to be a bad day. It started with nausea and vomiting. It progressed with a headache. Her symptoms couldn't be alleviated by Rachel's presence at her chemotherapy treatment because it was one of Rachel's rare days-off. So as Santana trudged back into her apartment – braving several feet of freshly plowed snow – she couldn't help the feeling of sadness that settled over her as she fell onto her couch.

She just didn't _feel good_…

She was woken several hours later by a vibration in her pocket. She grumbled quietly under her breath, rolling over to reach for her cellphone. She cleared her throat and accepted the call. "Hello?" she said, as clearly as she could.

"_Hello_."

"Rachel," Santana exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. Her head spun dangerously. "Hi, where are you?"

"_Well, I'm actually outside right now. Is everything ok?_"

_No, _Santana wanted to say. _I feel like complete shit. I look awful. _She sighed. _But above all of that, I still really want to see you…_

"Umm yeah, you just caught me sleeping. Come on inside, the door is open."

It didn't take Rachel long to realize that Santana was having a 'bad day' – and not a bad day brought on by angry parents or professors, but a bad day brought on by the foreign nemesis in her body.

So Rachel plopped Santana down – she brought her warm tea and blankets and The Breakfast Club – and she took care of the sick girl. As the movie finished, Santana was barely managing to stay awake.

"Good first date," Santana mumbled under her breath as she dozed off. Rachel smiled.

**OoOoOoO**

_A/N: I hope I'm not the only PezBerry fan who noticed some serious ogling between Santana and Rachel on last night's episode of Glee (during the performance of "Silly Love Songs"). They're quite literally __**always**__ next to each other in __**every**__ episode. Serious sexual tension – in my mind, at least._


	11. Reach For The Sun

On Santana's forty-fourth day of treatment, she gingerly slid out of her coat – her left arm was almost impossible to maneuver. The previous day, she'd had surgery to remove the tumor from her left breast. Her entire chest and left arm was tender to every movement or touch against her clothing.

The nurse greeted her, and Santana took her usual seat. The hour passed – slowly. Rachel had worked the morning shift today, and Santana had missed her. She was more than a little saddened because of this – it'd now been two full days since she had seen Rachel. A new record.

And she secretly hated it.

This nurse was fine – she was great at her job, even.

But she wasn't Rachel.

**OoOoOoO**

On her drive home, Santana's phone rang. She stuck her knees up to the wheel to steer while she retrieved her cell with her right hand from her purse.

"Hello?" she questioned.

"Hello, is this Miss Pierce?"

"Yes, this is she," Santana responded. The woman on the other end of the line introduced herself as one of the nurses in Dr. Smith's office – Santana's surgeon. Santana only heard clips and phrases, her mind was on overdrive.

_Surgery. Success. No residual malignant cells in the area. Chemo treatments working._

When Santana hung up, she was pleased to find that she had parked outside her apartment. So when she began crying tears of joy and relief and her vision became cloudy, she didn't have to worry.

**OoOoOoO**

She ascended the stairs to her front door and was surprised to see a pristine, white sticky note fluttering lightly in the breeze. It read: _Don't be freaked out when you come inside and realize that someone else is in your apartment. It's just me! – Rachel_

She hadn't thought her mood could get any better – but she was proven wrong as she literally laughed out loud, a huge smile covering her face as she hurriedly walked into her apartment.

Not immediately seeing Rachel, Santana didn't even bother shedding her coat at the door. She proceeded through her apartment, looking for the tiny woman. Living room, negative. Dining room, negative. Kitchen… Success.

There was Rachel – swaying her hips lightly to the beat of Santana's kitchen stereo, tasting some concoction that was simmering on the stove. Santana inhaled deeply – it smelled delicious.

As she took a few steps closer to Rachel, the other girl heard her footfalls and turned abruptly.

"Santana!"

"Hi there," Santana grinned shyly – embarrassed, hoping to God that Rachel couldn't read her mind. _She's so beautiful. I'm so lucky to have her in my life. I feel like taking her up to my bed and –_

"I realize that yesterday was a huge day for you, and I felt so awful that I couldn't be there – but my dads were visiting and they _never_ visit and I just couldn't blow them off. Though, trust me, I considered it. And then _today_," she huffed. "_Today_, Terry wouldn't switch shifts with me! And so I decided to use the time to sneak over here, break in – though your spare key is _not_ well-hidden – and cook you an early dinner."

Santana's eyebrows were raised – Rachel had hardly paused for breath.

"So anyway," Rachel smiled brilliantly – putting the past forty-eight hours of distractions out of her mind. "Hi."

"Hi," Santana repeated, taking another step towards the brunette. "Would it be creepy…" Santana trailed off nervously. "…If I said that I missed you? Like, a lot."

Rachel grinned, stepping forward and grasping each of Santana's hands in her own. "No," she replied. "Not creepy. I promise."

Rachel delicately helped Santana out of her coat and scarf. She asked to see the dressing over the incision, so Santana pulled back the low-dipping collar of her v-neck sweater. "I'll redress it for you after dinner, ok?" Santana had nodded. Rachel had gently pulled the sweater back up into place and cupped Santana's cheek in her palm, lightly caressing her thumb against warm skin.

During dinner, Santana shared her good news with Rachel – the surgery had been successful. Everything was looking good, everyone was feeling optimistic. Rachel had jumped up from the table and performed a Happy Dance on the spot.

After dinner, they curled up on the couch together and watched Sixteen Candles. "Can I kiss you?" Rachel whispered softly against her hair. Santana looked up from her position on Rachel's chest and, without any hesitation, leaned forward and did it herself. Afterwards, their eyes locked.

"Fireworks?" Rachel questioned. Santana nodded vigorously.


	12. Surfaced

Santana's sixty-seventh day of treatment came, and she couldn't find it within herself to get out of bed. The drugs were completely wrecking her system, her body. _They said things looked good, why do I have to continue this torture?_ she thought despondently as she clutched one of her pillows to her chest, wrapping her body around it in an effort to ease the pain and nausea. She sighed, and her breath came out as a shudder. She knew why. She knew exactly why – she couldn't just stop. They weren't just trying to rid her body completely of cancer – they were trying to prevent Santana from ever getting cancer again. It only took one cell. She shouldn't be willing to risk that.

Not after coming so far.

She groaned and rolled over, palming her alarm clock and pulling it closer to her face so that she could see the time properly. And when her eyes caught sight of the date, her stomach churned violently. It must have just… snuck up on her. The days had blurred together – with the two classes she was taking at NYU this semester, the chemo, surgery, and… and Rachel.

Getting to know Rachel. Learning what it felt like to be held by Rachel. Cooking dinner for Rachel and watching movies from the eighties with Rachel.

Rachel.

And then she remembered again why her thoughts had ventured in this direction. The date. March 29th.

_Santana held Brittany's hands tightly in her own. "I'm sorry that we couldn't have your dream June wedding, Brit."_

_Brittany blushed beautifully and giggled, leaning forward to kiss Santana firmly on the lips. She pulled away after Santana had been fully robbed of any and all air, and she said, "It's ok, San. March 29__th__ is my new favorite day."_

Santana squeezed her eyes shut tightly, trying to ignore the tears that dripped down her face. Finally – after the minutes had ticked by and her tears had dried up – she leaned forward on her elbows and glanced again at the clock. This time, it wasn't a shock to see the date, to feel the memories flash violently in her mind.

She squeezed her eyes tightly – just once – and prepared to throw her blankets off, climb out of bed, and start her day. But then her phone rang.

She smiled – and it wasn't a sad smile or a guilty smile or a nervous smile – as she saw that Rachel was calling her.

"Well hi there," she said as she accepted the call.

"_Santana_," Rachel greeted. "_Hi._"

"Hi."

"_I was wondering, how are you feeling today?_"

Santana paused. She couldn't lie to Rachel. The other girl would know immediately. "It's uhhh… One of those days. Physically and emotionally."

Santana could practically hear the wheels turning in Rachel's head through the telephone line. "_Hmmm…_" she hummed quietly to herself. Santana lay back against the pillows fully again, turning on her side. She balanced her phone on her ear and allowed her eyes to drift closed, satisfied with having Rachel next to her – even in this capacity. "_You're my last appointment today. And I was wondering if you'd like to go to a play with me. However, now that I know that today really just isn't a great day, I think we should perhaps reconsider…_"

"What play?" Santana inquired. "I heard there's a revival on Broadway right now of Wicked. And there's always Jersey Boys or Spring Awakening –"

"_Well_," Rachel interrupted her succinctly. "_I actually had something a bit more… elementary in nature in mind._"

"How so?" Santana questioned, a hint of mirth in her voice.

"_Uhhh it actually __**is**__ an elementary school production._" Santana couldn't hold back the laughter that left her lips. Within a matter of seconds, Rachel was laughing with her. "_I don't know why we're laughing,_" Rachel managed to get out between giggles. "_It's quite a serious situation really._"

"Who do you know in elementary school?" Santana questioned.

"_It's my little sister's school play this year! They're doing a Little Red Riding Hood adaptation. I've heard that it's quite charming._"

Santana recovered quickly – because she hadn't actually known that Rachel had a little sister. She tried not to feel guilty about that, but there was nothing she could really do about it now. "That sounds like a great time, Rach. So we'll go together after my treatment?"

"_Well, not if you feel sick –_"

Santana laughed again. "I'll be there, Rach. I promise." She could practically hear Rachel's smile of contentment.


	13. Settle Down

Later that evening – after her chemo treatment and after a delicious meal at Rachel's favorite Thai restaurant in the City – Rachel drove Santana towards the community theatre where the play was to be held. While in the car, Santana could practically feel the excitement bubbling off of Rachel in waves.

"Since I'm meeting your little sister tonight, do I also get to meet your parents?" Santana questioned. She was genuinely curious. Rachel didn't really talk about her family. Sure, they had learned a lot about each other – they had talked about hobbies and interests and past loves and heartbreaks and dreams and aspirations. But somehow, the subject of the past had always been astutely avoided. For Santana, it was the painful memory of her life before Rachel – her life with Brittany. For Rachel, Santana wasn't sure…

Rachel smiled good-naturedly in Santana's direction and reached her hand out for Santana's. The Latina complied easily, lacing their fingers together. "That's actually quite a loaded question – though I realize that you don't understand why yet. To put it simply, no – you won't be meeting my parents tonight. You will, however, be meeting my birth mother."

"Ahh, so you're adopted?"

Rachel tilted her head to the side and quirked her lips slightly, not offended that Santana had come to the wrong assumption. "No, not quite. Do you mind hearing my shortened life story?"

"By all means," Santana said. "I'd love to hear your annotated autobiography." She squeezed Rachel's hand reassuringly.

"Ok so, I have two gay dads." She rubbed her thumb over the back of Santana's hand. "They actually hired Shelby – that's my mother – as a surrogate. So anyway, I didn't know her until I was sixteen, and that was only through a strange series of events. Regardless, we met and sort of started to get to know each other, but it was rough. I think she realized that I was basically a mini-grownup with mini-grownup issues. And what she really needed at that point in her life was a baby."

Santana's eyebrows furrowed as she wondered what kind of person wouldn't want to 'deal with' Rachel Berry and her issues. Rachel continued. "One of my… classmates was pregnant, and when she gave birth, she chose to give the baby up for adoption. My mom was basically ready and waiting for a second chance at motherhood."

Rachel's tone had changed – it was sad and regretful and Santana just _knew_ that there was more behind this story than Rachel was letting on. There was something tragic and heart-wrenching just beneath the surface. "So Shelby and I went our separate ways for a while, but we reconnected after I graduated high school. Things were different – and she's never quite been able to fill that void in my life for a mother. But instead, I got a sister. We love each other very much, and I've tried to be the best big sister for her that I could be – despite our generation gap."

Rachel parked the car and turned in her seat to face Santana. "I can imagine that it sounds quite dramatic. I assure you, it's not – we're used to the dynamic at this point." She smiled in an attempt to ease any concerns Santana may have been dealing with.

Santana returned the smile hesitantly. "Thank you, Rachel. Seriously. Thank you for sharing your story with me."

Rachel leaned across the empty space between their bodies, wrapping her hand around the back of Santana's neck and pulling her in for a kiss. "Let's go see the show," she murmured against Santana's lips.

**OoOoOoO**

Having made it inside just in time for the show to begin, Rachel and Santana found seats as the lights began to flicker. Before long, they dimmed completely. Santana grinned to herself when she felt Rachel's hand snake over into her lap. She clasped Rachel's hand in both of her own.

When a tiny, adorable blonde girl walked out on stage, Santana almost had to restrain Rachel to keep her from jumping up and clapping like an absolute crazy.

Afterwards, Santana and Rachel went to the lobby. Santana stood by semi-awkwardly as Rachel found Shelby, conversing with her quietly for a few moments before bringing her over to introduce Santana. On their way over, the tiny girl barreled into Rachel from behind. Laughing, the group made their way over to Santana. She stood and waved kindly.

"Mom, Beth – this is Santana," Rachel introduced. "My girlfriend." Santana's face nearly split in two from her smile.


	14. The Permanent Rain

The car ride back to Santana's was quiet. Santana was exhausted – but it was a happy exhaustion and there was a smile on her lips that refused to be cast aside. Her forehead was pressed against the cool glass of the passenger side window, and her left arm was stretched out so that her hand was lying in Rachel's lap. Rachel's fingers were dancing lightly across the exposed skin of Santana's wrist. Patterns were drawn and goosebumps were raised and Santana still found herself smiling out into the night with irrepressible happiness.

_She called me her girlfriend_.

The streetlights flickering past cast brilliant colors on the backs of Santana's eyelids. Suddenly, Rachel's fingers stilled. Santana waited momentarily, sure that the other girl's ministrations would resume. But half a minute passed by and then a full minute was gone, and still Rachel was motionless. The corners of Santana's lips ever so slowly turned downwards until her smile was gone and the slightest of frowns had taken its place. Her eyes blinked open and she turned her head towards Rachel.

And what she saw, it broke her heart.

Rachel had one elbow propped up against the door, and her head was resting against her open palm. She had been absentmindedly holding the car in a straight line with her knee, but it didn't much matter with the stop and go of the city's traffic. But while her posture seemed tired and contemplative, her face and her eyes and even her lips showed a completely different story. Her eyes, they were sad and shining with unshed tears. Her lips, they were quivering almost imperceptibly in the light from outside of the car. And her face itself drew a picture of quiet, pained remembrance. Santana thought that, maybe, if she could have been inside Rachel's mind at that moment in time – maybe she would be on the verge of tears, too. Maybe her posture would be tired and scared and broken. Maybe...

"What's wrong?" she asked, breaking the silence between them that was filled with the smell of an approaching rainstorm, thick and sweet on Santana's tongue as the words left her lips.

Rachel's eyes flickered over to her – briefly, calmly. "I thought you were asleep, sweetie."

"Your hand felt too good touching me. Sleeping would've meant giving that up." Santana saw the corner of Rachel's lip draw up a bit, a ghost of a memory of a smile. "Whatever you're not telling me," Santana said, "you _can_ tell me."

Rachel sighed and looked down at her lap while they were momentarily stopped at another stoplight. "Beth's mom, she wasn't _just_ a classmate."

Santana shifted in her seat, closer to Rachel. She wasn't sure she had heard properly. "What do you mean?" Of course, Santana had a clue, an inkling, a notion. She wasn't particularly slow or dim-witted. But it was something Rachel had to say, Santana knew. It was just one of those things.

"She wasn't just a classmate to me, Beth's mom. She was a lot more than that. She was…" Rachel's voice trailed off, and Santana watched as the girl worked the inside of her cheek between her teeth. The light changed and they pulled forward. "…She was a lot of things, a lot of firsts for me." Santana turned her hand over and their fingers found each other. "She was my first real love and my first sexual experience that left me wanting more. She was my first act of delinquent behavior and my first realization that I could maybe make a difference in the world. She was my first heartbreak, Santana. And I'm not sure that – for me – there will ever be any experience as painful as when she gave Beth to my mother."

She had begun crying at some point. Santana leaned forward, across the console, and pressed her lips against Rachel's temple.

"I realized – years later, when Shelby really tried to form a bond with me again – that she had only been doing what was right for Beth. But when I found out a few weeks after the fact that my girlfriend had helped my mother move on and start a new and improved life without me? Words couldn't express my bitterness. And we fell apart. When she… Her name is Quinn…" Again, Rachel's voice disappeared momentarily. "When Quinn told me, she tried to make it painless. But there was no coming back from that. Not for me."

"Her loss," Santana whispered quietly, "has become my gain."


	15. I Would Stay

Santana realized, with a genuine smile on her lips, that spring had been a long time coming.

The park bench was smooth and warm underneath her fingertips, and the sun was valiantly shining through the intermittently-passing-by clouds in the sky.

Earlier that same morning, Santana had met Rachel at her work and received her last chemo treatment.

It was late afternoon now, and Santana hadn't been entirely aware of the fact that she had been sitting outside for so long. But Central Park was lovely. The grass was green, and children were playing. Dogs were barking and chasing after Frisbees. Runners were running by and couples were walking past, hand-in-hand.

Santana may not have been aware of the passing-of-time, but there was no guarantee that she would have moved anyway.

A pair of fingers suddenly danced themselves across her shoulders and rested against the nape of her neck. Rachel had approached Santana's bench from behind and was now sitting with her knees pressed against Santana's thigh. _Like a child_, Santana thought. She grinned and leaned her head back slightly against the soft pressure that was being exerted against the base of her skull by Rachel's warm palm.

"_God_, am I glad to see you," Rachel murmured against Santana's lips as she leaned forward, kissing her with fervor.

"Mmm," Santana moaned quietly against Rachel's lips as they pulled away. "You should be glad to see me more often." They smiled at Santana's words - because Rachel was _always_ this glad to see her, and they both knew it.

"What a great day!" Rachel suddenly exclaimed, leaning back and covering her excited grin with her hand that wasn't still possessively wrapped around Santana's neck. Santana reached out and lowered Rachel's hand; she wanted to be able to see all of her. Rachel's eyes were sparkling. Her ponytail was blowing in the cool breeze. Santana's breath caught in her throat as she was very nearly overcome with emotion at the sight in front of her. "We have to celebrate," Rachel said after a few moments of gently tucking her bottom lip between her teeth and teasing the light fuzz of hair that was growing at the base of Santana's hairline with her fingertips.

Santana tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow. "Dinner?" she questioned. "Movie?"

Rachel bobbed her head back and forth, rolling her eyes skyward while she playfully deliberated. "Ok," she said. Santana smiled and was about to respond when Rachel added, "But first, I want you. In your bed. Completely naked."

Santana was so shocked that her jaw momentarily forgot that it was probably supposed to drop. She blinked slowly a couple of times before asking Rachel to repeat her previous statement. And Rachel repeated it willingly, leaning forward suggestively and pressing the side of her chest tantalizingly against Santana's arm as the words left her lips in a smooth caress against the shell of Santana's ear.

It only took about a minute to get to the nearest road. Rachel stood slightly behind her girlfriend with a completely cocky smirk on her face as Santana practically threw herself into the street to hail a cab. They climbed inside before Santana practically shouted her address at the guy driving. Then Santana's hands were hungrily grasping the sides of Rachel's face and crashing their lips together in a kiss that consisted of tongues and teeth and breathy moans and so much _passion_ that Santana could hardly function.

For the first time in a _long_ time, Santana had energy. She was happy and full of life. She was ready to _live_. She and Rachel hadn't slept together yet, but as their make-out session in the backseat of the taxi became more and more heated, Santana sincerely began to worry that they wouldn't make it into her apartment, let alone up to her bed.

"Ok, this ride is on _me_, ladies," the cab driver wolf-whistled from the front seat. "_Hot_."

Rachel proceeded to break apart from the kiss to stare pointedly at the driver with a look that could kill. Santana groaned, her head falling back against the headrest behind her.

"Excuse me," Rachel began, leaning forward and glancing at the taxi license that was pinned to the dash in the front of the cab, "Mr. _Puckerman_, but my girlfriend and I are celebrating. Please keep your lewd comments to yourself."

Puckerman comically made a motion of the zipping of his lips and gladly allowed the girls to resume their previous activities without further commentary.


	16. Here We Are After Dark

Both girls were unaware that the cab had come to a stop.

Their driver cleared his throat, obviously hesitant to interrupt. "Uhh… ladies?" Puckerman questioned, his eyes firmly locked on his rearview mirror. "I think this is your stop."

Santana's eyes rolled back in her head as Rachel removed her tongue from the inside of Santana's mouth. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the cab fair, tossing it into the man's lap over his shoulder. Before Santana knew what was happening, the door was open and she was pretty much being pushed out into the street. She reached back to grab Rachel's left hand while Rachel used her right to smack Puckerman upside the head.

"Ow!" he exclaimed.

"That's what you get for watching the whole time."

And then they were – somehow, miraculously – inside. And Rachel had Santana pushed up against the entryway door. And her nimble, delicate hands were touching Santana like Santana hadn't been touched in _years_.

"_God_," Santana breathed out as she clenched her fists in Rachel's hair, holding the girl in place as she assaulted her neck with nips and bites and torturous pleasure.

"You can call me Rachel." Santana felt her girlfriend laugh heavily against her sensitive flesh. She shivered uncontrollably.

Suddenly, Rachel pushed Santana's jacket down her arms to pool at her feet. And she literally inserted her fingers into the gaps of Santana's button down shirt and _ripped_ it open. Buttons flew and Santana moaned as Rachel's lips immediately began worshipping the soft rise of skin above her bra. Rachel's fingers were on top of the material, kneading breasts and eliciting more moans of pleasure and pleads for _more_.

"Upstairs," Santana finally managed to grunt out. She pulled Rachel up by her shoulders before the girl had the chance to get on her knees _right there_ in the foyer. "My bed." Her words were practically spoken directly into the cavern of Rachel's mouth as they hungrily kissed each other senseless. "_Now_."

Then, suddenly – much like when they found themselves inside the apartment – they were on Santana's bed.

Hovering over Rachel as the tiny girl lay underneath her, panting and already lightly sweating from exertion, Santana thought that she had _never_ seen a more exquisite sight in her life. When she touched her lips to Rachel's this time, it was agonizingly slow; but beautiful.

Rachel's fingers drug up the small of Santana's back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. As she unclasped Santana's bra, her eyes opened and she gazed into Santana's. The corners of Santana's lips twitched upward slightly in acknowledgment, encouragement. The material fell down her arms and Rachel's eyes flickered away, down.

Santana was nervous. She had the scars from surgery. Her breasts were anything but perfect. But then she saw Rachel's face light up in reverent appreciation, and she was a goner before the other girl's lips even made contact with her already erect nipples.

Some incoherent words made their way out of her lips as Rachel lavished her torso with affection and enthusiasm. And then their positions were switched. And Rachel was ripping off her own shirt. And then her bra. And Santana almost came undone.

"Less clothes?" she managed to gasp out as her hands began to explore the newly discovered expanses of skin in front of her.

Rachel nodded. "Less clothes."

Their naked bodies were slick with sweat as they moved together, creating electrifying friction. Rachel moaned when her thigh pressed against Santana's center, coming in contact with _wetness_ and need. "_God_," she moaned as she bit down on Santana's neck.

Santana smirked. "You can call me Santana."

But her smirk was short-lived; one of Rachel's slender fingers was suddenly inside of her, and Santana breathed her approval. "_Rachel_," she gasped. "_Fuck._" She felt her muscles clench around Rachel's digit as she reached her own hand between them and ran her fingertips through the other girl's matching wetness. She clenched her teeth trying to restrain herself.

But then she realized with stunning clarity that she didn't have any need to restrain herself. So she pushed two fingers inside of Rachel and almost lost it when Rachel vocalized her assent.

"More," Santana panted. Rachel complied. And they rocked through their orgasms together, and the earth shattered into a million pieces around them.

They collapsed together momentarily before Rachel pulled a blanket up to cover their bodies as they recovered – and prepared to repeat the entire experience as many times as possible before the night was over.


	17. Of Confidence

Her grip on the box faltered momentarily before her fingers reaffirmed their grasp on the edges, hefting it up more firmly against her chest.

"_Unff_," she grunted heavily as she managed to make her way up the final step and into the open doorway, dropping the box unceremoniously next to its family of boxes and bags and containers of various shapes and sizes. Santana wiped at the sheen of sweat that was coating her forehead before running her fingers through her shiny, meticulously straightened black hair.

It felt good to have hair to drag her fingers through again. She pulled a rubberband from around her wrist and hastily pulled her hair up into a high ponytail so that it was no longer residing against the warmth of her neck.

"Help!"

Santana heard the squeak from the doorway and turned on her toes to sprint over and help Rachel before she became a Berry Pancake under the heavy load she was attempting to bring inside.

"I got you," Santana said with a chuckle in her throat as she took two of the three boxes Rachel had been (stubbornly) carrying.

"Thank you," Rachel gasped out as she carefully set her box down in the expanse of the living room.

The movers had brought their furniture inside earlier that morning, so the couch that Rachel had fallen in love with from Santana's old apartment was there – ready and waiting – for her to plop down on in a dramatic display of exhaustion.

Santana watched her girlfriend sigh and exaggeratedly throw the back of her hand over her eyes.

With her hands on her hips and a bright smile on her face, Santana couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with love for the other woman.

"It's been _years_ since I've dealt with the hassle of moving," Rachel said. "I'm not entirely sure if it's worth it, my love!"

Santana laughed. "Well, our new bed is already upstairs in the master bedroom. But if you want, I can send it back and –"

"No!" Rachel yelled, immediately sitting up. "I-I love that bed." Santana smirked and her eyes twinkled with mirth. _Of course_ she wasn't going to send the bed back. They needed a place to sleep. And do other things.

Rachel crooked in her finger enticingly in Santana's direction. Santana jokingly looked to her left and then to her right before pointing at herself and mouthing, '_Who, me?_' Rachel grinned and nodded her head, biting her lip playfully between her teeth. Santana laughed before moving forward quickly and jumping onto the couch next to the other girl.

Without wasting a beat, Rachel leaned forward and began placing warm, soft kisses against Santana's cheek and neck and nose and lips. "You know," Santana said between kisses, "I wasn't really going to send the bed back. You don't have to convince me otherwise."

Rachel dropped her head down and giggled against Santana's chest as Santana wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, leaning back against the arm of the couch and pulling her girlfriend fully into her lap and her embrace.

There were some moments of silence as the girls sat there on the couch – Rachel with her eyes closed peacefully and Santana with her eyes looking around at _their_ new apartment, their new beginning. But sometimes silence was good. Sometimes, in the silence, all of the important things that oftentimes went unsaid came to the surface and left lips in quiet understanding, surrounded by peace and tranquility.

"Are you ready to start over?" Rachel questioned.

Santana's hand never faltered in its path through Rachel's soft tresses of hair as she contemplated her answer.

Starting over didn't necessarily mean leaving her past behind her – because her past, _Brittany_, would never be any less a part of who she was – but it did mean moving forward as this new person she had become. She had beat cancer when her previous love had lost, and she had fallen in love again in the process. Santana used to think that there were wounds that could never fully be healed, but the part of her heart that was left over after Brittany's death – the part that Brittany had urged her to use to love someone again – had opened up and wrapped itself around _Rachel_.

And Santana knew that she could be happy again – because she already was.

She leaned over and kissed Rachel's forehead. "I'm ready," she said softly, with love. "And I'm confident that our life is going to be _amazing_."

_**The End**_

_A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story, 750 words at a time. And for anyone who is curious (or looking for new music to listen to), every chapter title is a song from the band 'The Dangerous Summer'._


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